Fairy Tales and Pain Meds
by BallerinasAreBabyNinjas
Summary: Fairy tales truly are the world's most accepted lies.


Just a little one-shot from Sakura's perspective. Actually an assignment for my AP Language class but I wanted otsee if you guys would enjoy it. I think I'll redo it later but right now I'd like to know what you guys think. Reviews are loved! :)

I don't own Naruto.

* * *

><p>I've always been fond of fairy tales. It all seemed so magical to me, life always turning out for the better of humanity but more important to the storyline, the princess herself. That's a worthwhile lifestyle, I think, to have a bit of hardship then break free from it for the rest of your life. But how do you escape from your problems when they not only flee with you to your place of freedom but also intoxicate your mind and dominate every thought that flows through your brain until you're completely conditioned to the idea that things won't change? That's not a fairy tale; it's reality taken a turn for the worse.<p>

Injuries, however, never come into play during these stories or when they do, they rarely last long. With a wave of a wand and a little pixie dust, the perfect world is again at ease and the happy princess walks away into her happy ever after. But in the real world, injuries can last a lifetime, people don't always get better, and it can leave both mental and physical scars. These simple everyday accidents can cripple us, change us, and morph our perception of the world until you have trouble believing the words that are spewing from your own mouth.

April 21, 2011 felt like a normal day to me. I couldn't have known that it was my turn to experience one of those life-changing days. I had worked out before school and had dance afterwards. I was extremely tired that day, but I'd shrugged it off as nothing, blaming it on the late nights and thinking nothing of the consequences. It had been the end of my dance class, reverence to be more specific. But during this reverence, I fell off pointe, a slight crack echoing in my head and accompanying me to the ground. Thinking of it as an odd creak from my pointe shoe, I finished the class, an unfamiliar ache then beginning to set on my left foot. I began limping when no one was looking in an attempt to hide the pain and avoid getting replaced in any of the upcoming performances. With my bag on my shoulders and a smile on my face that didn't quite reach my eyes, I headed for my car, facade breaking the minute I left the building that had become so familiar to me. Bursting into tears, I sat in the car for five minutes before I even spoke to my mother about what was going on.

Two days later, I was sitting in a doctor's office, waiting almost painfully for the results of my x-ray. The doctor told me I had an inversion sprain but I would be able to dance in a week. It was simply wonderful that it was only a week but terrible as well. Naturally, I panicked. I had performances to get ready for in a week. I didn't have time for random injuries. I wasn't one of the greatest pointe dancers in my level and I knew it. This injury, this unplanned setback in my life tortured me both mentally and physically, but all I could do was stand by and wait for it to end. The waiting, however, seemed to only multiply my anguish. I couldn't be still. I couldn't handle being still, sitting there for a week watching my closest friends do what I wished to do while I could do nothing but stare at my aching foot. I'd become a shell of what I used to be, closed off from my friends and those who cared, offering a fake smile to those who sent me those irritating glances filled with pity. I didn't need their pity. I needed an immediate cure.

Suddenly, it became satisfying to blame myself. Thoughts of what should have happened that day flooded my mind endlessly. I should have never attempted that step. I already had shin splints; I should have just sat down after jumps. I should have just caught up on my sleep or homework. I should have never even gone to dance that day. Nothing could stop the anxiousness, the nervousness, on whether or not I would be prepared for the three weeks of performances that were just one week away.

(-)

That week came and went and I was the first one at my dance class that Saturday, preparing to get back to dancing, to what I love, essentially my fairy tale. And things that day flowed so smoothly I couldn't help but be ecstatic. I was one step closer to being back on track and it was a lovely thought to have. That Wednesday, I had a pointe rehearsal and my teacher made sure my foot was alright before it started. But then it all went wrong. Twenty minutes into rehearsal, my feet began to throb painfully and I didn't know why but I knew that I couldn't stop. The minute I took off those pointe shoes my teacher would realize what was wrong. From there, she would take away the roles that I had earned and I couldn't let that happen. I wanted to be selfish for this. The pain I was feeling determined nothing if enduring it meant I could be back where I loved. I'd become unhealthily dedicated, obsessed, and I lathered in every moment of it.

I lost the pointe role anyway and the pain never went away. A later MRI told me I had posterior tibial tendinitis. Suddenly, the more I danced, the more it spread, from the side of my foot, to the back until my entire left ankle was enveloped by the disease. Still, I refused to stop. How could I? I had danced since I was five years old. I quit every other extra-curricular activity I had ever done just to dance. It was all I knew. How could I quit? This was my life. The walls seemed to close in as this realization dawned on me: it was all I had left.

(-)

I'm still affected today. I am thankful to God that my foot is in much better condition but nothing like before the initial sprain. I now have to be careful with every movement of my foot, making sure it doesn't bend too far in the wrong direction to avoid the now familiar shooting pain. Physical therapy exercises have become a tri-weekly routine to rebuild the lost strength. I have to do theraband exercises everyday to avoid re-spraining my foot. And yet, I still dance. This is where the fairy tales are misleading. No life is perfect. No one escapes these hardships. Things aren't always completely okay but that's just the truth of the matter. The thing is, I don't know who has yet to accept these facts: the creators of these fairy tales or me.

* * *

><p>Please Review! :)<p>

-BABN


End file.
